


Conundrum

by osterran



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Intimacy, M/M, Overthinking, Teasing, Tenderness, and intimacy issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:00:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23542756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osterran/pseuds/osterran
Summary: Therion has secrets, that's just who he is. Cyrus overthinks everything, because that's what he does.When the thief returns after an extended period of time, Cyrus is left with so many questions and a fear to see him disappear once more. In the early hours of a summer morning, he has to learn to ask them without a word.
Relationships: Cyrus Albright & Therion, Cyrus Albright/Therion
Comments: 7
Kudos: 80





	Conundrum

“I think it’s time you take a break, professor.” 

Cyrus nearly jumps out at the sound of the familiar voice. 

The young man perched on his windowsill should not take any pride in surprising him like this because it is more than easy to do so when he is so engrossed in his reading, yet he always seems happy about it. Cyrus’ heart hits first in surprise then once more at the sight of his lopsided smile, somewhat soft against the light of the oil lamp on his desk. 

The teacher immediately stands out of his chair. 

  
“Therion!” He makes for the window, offering him a hand to help him down which is entirely ignored “You’re here. When did you get in Atlasdam?”

  
Therion looks around the office as he always does when he comes around after having been absent for a while. Like he’s never seen the place. He’ll absentmindedly pick up a few books, read their covers, move around some papers. It reminds Cyrus of his own cat, a spoiled posh devil who would go around the place pushing things around for no reason - except the brat never breaks eye contact while Therion does not look at him for a few minutes every time. Cyrus badly wants him to.

  
“Couple of hours ago. Just walked around for a bit. It’s pretty lively out there.”

  
It is. The summer celebrations in the city are approaching and with them the end of classes. Soon, there will be street parties and drunken, happy students at every corner.

  
“I fear this is not dramatic enough to your liking but just so you know, my door is open next time you decide to visit me.”

Therion decides not to pick up on the remark and shrugs “So is your window. Plus, the whole place crawls with students.”

  
He is right. End of classes means that the school never quite sleeps because of his students, cramming away into the night to prepare for their final assessments. Therion could fit right in there too, as he is about the same age of students nearing the end of their degrees, but he’s never seemed comfortable sticking with this crowd. 

Perhaps only his usual outfit would set him apart from the smartly dressed circle but tonight, it actually looks different. It is not as thick and old as his mantle used to look, although the colour is similar (Cyrus assumes that’s why the thief picked it up). Something about it reminds him of the textiles they saw in Sunshade.

Where had Therion been? About a month had passed since they last saw, the most they had spent without seeing each other since their adventure reached its end. 

Therion had been very restless right off the bat. Although he had spent some time around the Flatlands and their relationship became… whatever this was, he always looks around with a slight unease like he was expected elsewhere. 

And perhaps he was, as he would go for a week or a fortnight at times, and then would come back to him, share his bed, eat his food and read his books. He never explained why he felt the need to do so but then again, Cyrus never asked. It was always meant to be this way for somebody like him. Everybody else had something, somewhere to come back to after everything was over, but he didn’t. Perhaps that was the only way he knew how to be at all.

Therion must notice his staring because he looks away once more to pick up something from under his cape. 

  
“I come bearing gifts though.” 

  
He does this, too. The gifts. Therion is actually an exceptional gift-giver by his standards. Probably because he has more means available to him than the average person. If their adventure changed some things in him, the thieving habits died hard. If anything, they were always here to stay, but Cyrus never complains. 

Especially not now, as he reads the beautiful leather-bound cover. 

  
“This alchemy tome- this is incredible! Gods, Therion where did you- wait, were you in Marsalim?”

  
The younger man rolls his eyes.

  
“Aeber, I hate when you scrutinize me.” And successfully so. “Yes, I was there for quite some time.”  
“I always meant to browse the books from the royal library. I was rather disappointed when we couldn’t drop by during our endeavours there.”  
“Yeah, we got slightly distracted with the whole red-eyed monster and petrified army.”

  
Already engrossed by the first few lines, Cyrus falls back into his chair and Therion sits up on his desk. That’s his favourite spot. He always perches himself there and makes fun of him or watches him work, his attention dropping to the outside from time to time. True to himself, he does so this time again, indulging him as he goes through the first pages as if he didn’t just spend most of his day reading. Therion sighs. 

  
“Don’t make me regret my selfless generosity.”

“You’re right, you’re right. Please tell me about Marsalim, I want to know everything about it. You have been gone for so long.” 

_  
I’ve missed you_ he wants to add. _Quite an unexpected and unbearable amount_.

The thing is, Therion is not the only one who learned some things about himself throughout their adventure ; Cyrus did too. As it happened, his travel friends had taken a certain pleasure in making fun of his obliviousness when it came to relationships and romantic attention. It sure made him reflect for a while.

But with Therion, it is different. 

Everything Therion did, he is keenly _aware_ of. He would spend hours watching the thief, listen to the way he spoke and decipher what was truly the most thrilling enigma life had put on his path. By now, Cyrus knows about the way he sleeps and how he wakes in the morning, how he likes his wine and where he likes to be touched - on the nape of his neck and on his wrists.

Still, it always feels like he is walking on a wire. Like he still doesn’t understand the boy, and what will make him stay or what will make him leave. Therion changed and allowed himself to let some of his softness out in the span of the year but most of him always remains guarded and unavailable. Incomprehensible.

It makes Cyrus anxious the way the last two weeks had made him anxious thinking that maybe, this time around he might have truly gone and this thing between them had just had been a chapter in his life. 

He wants him so badly his heart and his head ache ; but how could a man like him dare to hold back someone as fleeting as Therion?

The latter looks down at him and then, his smile is back.  
  


“Now, we have time to get into that.” He stands up from the desk, making his way to him with intent and the scholar’s throat tightens “I know your passion for the chitchats, but I had a different idea”

  
In one swift move, he’s on his laps and his hands lock around his neck. Cyrus is always weak for his evasive maneuvers, especially when he hasn’t put his hands on him for too long - or when Therion kisses him the way he does, slow and languid. His skin is even warmer than usual, thanks to the heated sun in Marsalim. This is the only time he doesn’t overthink the details of their relationship, so easily absorbed by the other’s presence. 

Therion’s right hand finds his way to his collar, opening the first buttons with his characteristic ease as his hips grind slowly against his. 

  
“Now tell me, what did you do to deserve this?”

  
He’s younger yet so much more natural with all this. He can afford to be playful. It drives Cyrus crazy but he manages to breath out against his lips: 

  
“How about we do not defile this desk-” _yet_ _again_ “-and we go home for the night?”

  
Once again, Therion does him a favour by not picking up on the way he says _home_ and once again, Cyrus tries his damn best not to get into his own head about it.

* * *

Therion sleeps heavily into the morning and Cyrus takes the opportunity to resume his tossing and turning. 

  
Truly, he excels at it. 

  
He can’t restrain himself from observing the thief for a while before getting weary of the very turmoil it provokes in him and calling it quit. On the side of his bed pile various books that he is the only man in the Flatlands to find to be light reading. He picks up one of them to distract himself from the sleeping form at his sides.

Less than an hour after, Therion does wake up without much of a word at first. He barely even moves or stretch. If anything, he somewhat comes closer to him and Cyrus can feel his breath against his own naked shoulder. The thief seems to hide there for a while as he judges him. 

  
“Really, _professor_? Back to your one true lover?”

  
By now, Cyrus knows that there is probably no way that Therion would ever stop to tease him by calling him this way. It is a lost cause. 

  
“This isn’t for class, I assure you. It’s actually quite captivating.” 

  
His cheek and nose rub against his shoulder and once again, Cyrus is reminded of his terrible cat and the way he strokes against the blankets in the morning before planting his claws there. It always feels like affection from Therion is unexpected and a sign that something else is coming. Yet, Cyrus has learned to trust him and embrace these moments. Perhaps then, Therion would allow his own tender side to come to the surface more often without showing his claws. Perhaps he would trust him too. 

  
“Hmm. Read me some part then?”

  
And so he does, raving about forgotten mythologies and stolen fires. 

After a couple of pages and some genuine attention from Therion, his dexterous hand comes back to work its magic, steadily making its way to his lower stomach. As diligent as the scholar can be when it comes to books, he does rapidly lose his focus and chokes on the next words. 

He trades them for the thief’s lips. 

They have sex once more, lazy like the light peeking through his open blinds. 

In their relationship, Cyrus barely ever initiate those contacts. Therion always knows what he wants in the very moment and is always rather good at getting it by his own means, just like he does with everything else. Even when Cyrus does gather the courage to make the first move - because he wants, by all gods of Osterra does he want - it’s always after some teasing from the other. An unspoken understanding that this is fine, that a wrong move on his part won’t drive him away. 

At the end of the day, this is when they’re bare and true with each other. In these moments, Therion is there and gives, he is no longer that elusive thing and Cyrus stops overthinking each one of his gesture and word. They talk in an unspoken tongue.

* * *

All this agitation got the better of Cyrus hair, which is now almost completely undone. 

It has gotten long again now, as long as his hair was when they came back from their journey eight months ago. He’d cut it all off then, much to the surprise of their friends, who always assumed there was only one way he ever wore it. Although Cyrus takes particularly good care of his appearance, especially as a representative of such a prestigious school, he’s just never quite known what to do with his it. He ties it for a lack of a better way.

As he’s about to do just so once again, sitting on the edge of the bed, Therion moves closer and reaches out for the ribbon in his hand. He feels warm against his own back so Cyrus leans into almost naturally. 

  
“I didn’t know you knew how to do a braid. I sure am incapable of it.” he says as experts fingers run through locks of hair, light and deft. 

“Hm-hm.”

  
Cyrus does not press but luckily, his silence does feel inquisitive enough. 

  
“I was in an orphanage for a few years until I turned thirteen. Believe it or not, I was already small back then.” 

  
This earns him a scoff from Cyrus who does his absolute best not to immediately smother him in a surge of questions. He always has hundreds for him. The more he gets to know him, the biggest the list seems to get. 

But he goes on.

  
“I wasn’t very good at anything either. The boys there didn’t really want me around much, but the girls took a fancy in me. They taught me a thing or two”  
“Always the charmer.”  
“Nah, that’s more of your thing. It wasn’t really like that.” He finishes the braid and lays it on his bare shoulder. “There.” 

  
Before he can go, Cyrus subtly catches his wrist, inviting him to remain a while longer, and Therion complies. As he lays his chin in the crook of his neck from behind, Cyrus’s mind goes back to the terrible things Darius once said about his former partner’s sentimentality. It had only half surprised him then ; throughout their journey, he’d always suspected it was there, catching hints of it. These days, he feels so strongly when he gets to witness it like this. Especially when he knows how much Therion must desire yet fear it. 

  
“Was this near Marsalim?”

A warm scoff against his skin. “Always so good at deciphering me, aren’t you? Not far. At the border with the Riverlands, near that big lake.” 

  
That one revelation prompts a thousand more questions in Cyrus’ mind, about how he ended there and how life was like for him. What or who got him out of there? How long did he stay and what happened in the nine years between this and that fateful day he turned around the life of a clueless teacher from the Flatlands?  
  
Instead, he brings his hands to his lips and kisses the rougher skin on his knuckles and it’s almost as if the truth finds its way out of himself on its own. 

  
“I’ve missed you tremendously.” 

If Therion can take a leap of faith, then perhaps so can he. Right now this is all that needs to be said. Hidden away in his back yet so close, Therion seems to find it in himself to answer without hesitation.

“I know. I did too.”  
“You know you can stay here as long as you want.”  
“I know.” he repeats, then pauses. “Or you could come with me, next time.” 

The offer takes Cyrus aback and something catches in his chest as he turns his head towards him. Expectedly, the thief has the slightest hint of a smile on lips, the same one the teacher has learned to understand in all its various shades. 

“You said so, plenty of books to read there.You’re nearly done with classes anyway.”  
“Therion-”  
“And I know you more than anyone else Albright, I know you get antsy without an adventure.”  
  


And oh, he does know him. Better than anyone else ever did. So for once, Cyrus lets his heart beat out of his chest to the rhythm of his own racing mind. 

There will be time for him to know him too, inside and out. There will be other mornings, or so he dares to hope as he holds Therion’s chin in his hand for a kiss, and he will get to ask everything he wants to know about him. 

  
After all, he’s always been partial to a riddle. 

**Author's Note:**

> That's it for me ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> This is not beta'd so 1) I'm sorry 2) if a gentle soul ever wants to take this on, I would be eternally grateful. 
> 
> This game stroke all sorts of chords for me so who knows, I might be back. Thank you ever so much for reading, this is my first ever piece of writing published anywhere so, that's neat.


End file.
